Greater Guards

Hey Jerry, do you ever think about life?

Yes, Beetlebum, it is quite a miracle.

No, I mean like how we’re made of mud.

Yes, Beetlebum, we are made of mud. What is there to think about?

Like, look at this, Jerry. How am I doing this?

You are wiggling your fingers in my face. It is a simple motor movement.

Mud isn’t supposed to have any motor movements. Look, Jerry, what are we doing here?

Simple. Master commands us, and so, we do.

Right, and why’s that?

I imagine the door we guard is important. Protecting the door protects the world from dire consequences. Maybe a plague or two.

We’re mud, we could survive ten plagues.

If it were a ten-plague threat, I’d like to think there would be more of us.

Alright, forget the door. You know why we follow Master’s commands, right?

He performed the ancient ritual. He sacrificed something of great value to strike a cosmic bargain. We are the vehicle to fulfill the contract. We are pawns, great and powerful in our simplicity.

Right, right, cosmic bargaining, paying the piper, following orders, right?

Right, Beetlebum.

Then who commands me to do this?

If I had the power, I would command you to cease your undignified jig.

Aha! But you don’t, do you, Jerry?

No, Beetlebum, I do not.

If Master must bargain and sacrifice to command me, I must be a being of great power to command myself.

You would still have to stop if he commanded.

He could, but he won’t. Do you know why?

Because he is merciless and cruel.

Because he has no idea! As long as we guard the door, we can do whatever we want.

No so, Beetlebum. I can’t choose to be deaf.

Well, then listening must be essential for guarding the door.

Yes, I suppose it has its uses.

But if it’s not your command and not Master’s command, there must be someone else even more powerful commanding you to listen. Maybe they’re watching over us, even now.

Perhaps, but the law of parsimony gives precedence to simplicity.

Then what’s the simple answer?

All rocks are subject to vibration. We just notice because we’re alive.

So, we’re conscious because we’re alive… Or are we alive because we’re conscious?… I like my guard guardian idea better. It’s just guards all the way down.

Guards all the way down… I suppose that’s simple in its own right.

Maybe Master just created what he knows.

Yes, I suppose we are created in his image.

Jerry, I’m talking about conventions.

Conventions?

Yes, conventions. Master could’ve summoned anything. Demons or skeletons or ghosts. Maybe he just liked our conventions.

You mean, a djinn could do more to protect a door than just standing in front of it, but it’s not worth the trouble of avoiding all the ironic loopholes.

Especially since you’d always miss the worst one.

Because of conventions?

Because of conventions.

I did tell you our strength is our simplicity. At least, mine is.

What if whatever gives us life decides our conventions, too? I think being able to shoot fireballs from my eyes would really help with guarding this door, here.

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If they are watching, your greater guards don’t seem to agree.

I guess that’s sensible. I might blast the door with fire… on accident.

Yes, some things are best left to experts.

I think there’s room for interpretation. Like, what if Master tries to get past us?

He could just give us a new command.

Not if he’s rendered mute through some ironic curse.

Why would he try? He went through all the trouble of protecting the door.

Maybe just because he can.

Like you and your senseless jigging… Yes, I suppose we would have to stop him.

Would we have a choice? I mean, maybe we could talk it out.

I thought he was mute.

We could still work things out; he’s not an animal. Or do you think we’d have to go on an uncontrollable rampage?

We may find out, one day.

Aren’t you curious?

About what, Beetlebum?

About anything, Jerry. I bet even you wonder what’s behind the door.

No.

But it could be anything.

Yes, that’s why wondering is pointless.

It could be nothing.

Then, nothing must be worth guarding.

You’d guard an old boot if Master told you to.

Yes, so would you.

Sure, but I wouldn’t be happy about it. How can you not wonder?

If we ever see behind the door, it would mean we failed in our purpose. The contract would be broken, and we would cease to exist.

That’s grim, even for you, Jerry.

Perhaps, but it is the nature of things.

How can you be so sure?

The same way I know my purpose. I feel it deep in my bones, can’t you?

We don’t have bones, Jerry.

Nonetheless. You feel it is true.

You can’t know something is true through a feeling. That’s all it is, a feeling.

Everything is a feeling, Beetlebum.

Can you feel this?

I don’t need to rely on feelings to see your rude hand gestures, Beetlebum.

What if Master’s forgotten about us?

Does it matter?

Of course, it matters. That’s the whole reason we’re here.

Remembering isn’t part of the contract. The door is the reason we’re here.

You’re really not curious?

No.

At all? Not even a little?

Not even a little.

Isn’t it torture?

Only to you, Beetlebum. Even the stones at our feet are content being what they are.

That one’s not content. I can feel it.

Perhaps both of you would be more content if you did less wondering.

I don’t think I can.

Maybe the greater guards decided your wondering is essential to protecting the door. If wondering is your purpose, do you think answering is mine?

Fireballs would be more practical.

Perhaps.

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Hey, Jerry?

Yes, Beetlebum.

Do you think we’ll be here forever?

No. Only so long as there is a door to guard.

That could be a very long time.

Or very short.

A million years.

Or tomorrow.

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So what do we do now?

What we can, I imagine.